200 Years Later
by Accio Dilectio
Summary: 200 years have passed since the Second Wizarding War, and Harry's life is nothing more than a chapter in a textbook. After being assigned a paper on the War, Lena Davies decides to interview a ghost who was there through the whole war.
1. 200 Years Ago

"And I want a four foot parchment on the Second Wizarding War by next week."

The class groaned as Professor Binns turned back to his chalkboard. As usual, he began to drone on about goblin rebellions, and as usual, the students began to stare blankly ahead, pretending to listen or falling asleep. One student, who, like the rest, was not paying attention, but thinking, the gears in her head whirring as she planned a way to write a four foot essay by Monday. There was only minimal information in her textbook on the Second Wizarding War. Perhaps she could speak to the Grey Lady, her house ghost? The Grey Lady had helped her with her essay on the original Triwizard Tournament. Another thought struck her mind, and she shot her hand in the air, holding it straighter than a flagpole.

Professor Binns continued his lecture, not noticing that the fifth year Ravenclaw was nearly falling out of her seat trying to get his attention. She called out to him, irritated.

"Professor Binns? Professor Binns? PROFESSOR BINNS?"

He turned around, noticing her at last.

"Ah, yes. What do you need, Ms…"

"Davies, sir. Lena Davies."

"Indeed. So, what is it you need, Derrest?"

"I was wondering, sir, if I could speak to you about the Second Wizarding War?"

Lena wasn't worried about disrupting the other students. No one paid any attention in History of Magic anyways, so it wouldn't matter if she began her research now.

Professor Binns paused for a moment, and, oddly, looked slightly embarrassed.

"I am sure what I know is no different than what your textbook says on the matter."

Lena sighed, and rephrased her question.

"Sir, I was wondering if you could tell me what you personally remember. After all, you were at Hogwarts during the War, so you would know what happened. And didn't the final battle of the War take place at Hogwarts?"

If a ghost could blush, Lena was sure Professor Binns would have. He appeared to be choosing his words carefully, and was looking very uncomfortable.

"I… I have always been… very… focused on my work. Due to this, I tend to… not… pay attention to events…"

Lena understood immediately. Professor Binns had probably spent all of his years in his unobservant, monotone deathstyle. It looked like she would have to spend a lot of time in the library this weekend.

Professor Binns still looking flustered, stuttered, "Class dismissed."

Just as Lena made to leave for the door, she heard Professor Binns attempt to call her name.

"Miss Davilyn?"

She turned back to face him while the last few students exited the room.

"I'm sorry that I could not be of more help with your essay."

"Sir, it's quite alright, I-"

"But I know someone who can."

Lena was stunned. Not only had Professor Binns given her more of a reaction than she had ever heard him give anyone, he was being helpful, another first.

"What? Really? Who?"

"I know another ghost who was alive for the Second Wizarding War. I do believe he died in the last battle, so he will be able to give you the story in full. I must warn you, though. He is rather… temperamental. But if you can refrain from making him angry, I am sure you will be able to get plenty of information."

"That's wonderful, sir, where can I find him?"

"He is usually in the abandoned girl's bathroom on the second floor. You know of it, I am sure?"

"Yes, I know of it." said Lena with a smile. "_So, he lived in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, did he?"_ she thought to seemed odd, but at least she knew where it was.

"Thank you, Professor."

Professor Binns nodded, and Lena hurried out the door, racing down four flights of stairs till she was at the wooden door of the second floor girl's bathroom. Standing in front of it, she felt a little nervous. _"Is now really the best time? I'm not prepared, I don't even know who this guy is, maybe I should come back later..."_ She took a deep breath and steeled herself, and pushed open the door.


	2. Interview With A Dead Man

"Myrtle, I promise, you look lovely, no matter what Olive Hornby-"

The ghost froze as he looked down at Lena, who was standing in the open doorway, watching the odd duo floating by the ceiling. She considered bolting, as she had obviously interrupted something. Before she could close the door, however, Myrtle was already drying her eyes, and the boy who had been comforting her began to glide down towards the alarmed witch.

Lena watched him approach her, her heart pounding. She was paralyzed, unable to run, horribly anxious. Lena watched him, looking for some indication of his emotion, but his face was unreadable. He reached the ground, and walked the last few feet to her. For one terrifying moment, he said nothing, merely stared at her with eyes that Lena was sure were just as cold in life as they were in death. He then flipped his straight blonde hair out of his face, smiled widely, and Lena relaxed instantly, knowing there was nothing to fear from this boy. Still grinning, he looked up to Moaning Myrtle, who was watching the whole episode from a rafter.

"Love, someone's finally come to see us!"

Lena was speechless. Not only was the ghost a boy who looked a couple years older than herself, he was sweet on Myrtle? If this was really the Moaning Myrtle she heard some of the seventh years talk about, how could anyone fall for her?

After the initial shock had worn away, Lena, who wasn't a Ravenclaw for nothing, after all, figured that the stories she had heard about Moaning Myrtle must be stretched, or completely fabricated, as no one had ever mentioned the boy who lived with her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud squeal of joy, as Myrtle flipped in midair, zooming quickly up to Lena, peering at her curiously through the thick-rimmed glasses, and Lena couldn't help but to notice the resemblance of Myrtle to an overexcited puppy.

"So…" began Myrtle, who seemed rather giggly. "You came to see me?"

"Actually," said Lena awkwardly. "I kind of came to see… well, I don't actually know his name…"

Myrtle gave an indignant gasp, glared at Lena for a moment, and then burst into tears. It seemed this was very routine, as the boy automatically wrapped his arms around Myrtle in a comforting hug, and took her away from Lena, placing Myrtle on a windowsill. She was becoming more and more hysterical by the second, bawling her eyes out. The boy stroked her hair, and then turned to Lena, who still hadn't moved. He looked down at her, unmistakably angry this time, and Lena felt light-headed from the constantly switching mood of the conversation. Was this not the same girl who was now happy and giggly five seconds ago, and now she was crying as though she would do so for hours. It looked like the stories about Myrtle _were_ true.

With a strong sense of déjà vu, Lena watched from the doorway as the boy comforted Myrtle, for the second time in less than five minutes. He seemed to be discussing something with Myrtle, speaking lowly so Lena couldn't hear him. Myrtle was beginning to stop crying, instead gesturing towards Lena. After another ridiculously short moment, the boy left the bipolar ghost sitting on the windowsill, and came over to Lena, who didn't understand anything that had just happened.

"Well…" he said, looking slightly bored. "You said you came to see me. What do you want?"

Lena was still confused. She had been so sure he had just been angry. She wondered if this ghost was as crazy as Myrtle.

"Umm… Professor Binns sent me to see you."

He seemed genuinely surprised by this.

"Really? I remember him from my years at Hogwarts… he never said anything of importance. Is he still dreadfully dull?"

"Kind of. But you see, he assigned an essay on the Second Wizard War, and there's not a lot of information in the textbook. I asked him who could help me, and he recommended you."

The boy looked at her oddly, not as though he was insulted, just as though that was not the answer he expected.

"Yes…" he said, still looking slightly out of it. "Right… the War."

"I'm Lena, by the way. Lena Davies."

The boy looked surprised, like he had forgotten she was there.

"Lena? Okay. I'm Draco, by the way. Draco Malfoy."

That name was familiar to Lena. She briefly searched her mind, wondering where she had heard it.

"Malfoy… I think I've heard of you."

Draco looked quite offended.

"I should damn well hope so. What, did you think I was bloody Harry Potter?"

"Harry Potter… that was the boy who defeated Voldemort."

Draco winced.

"Please, call him You-Know-Who." he muttered, slightly embarrassed that the name of the Dark Lord still made him flinch after two centuries.

"Okay. You-Know-Who then. But, about the interview. You were there, right? Through the Second Wizarding War? Professor Binns said you died in the final-" Lena broke off, unsure if she had just said something discourteous. She didn't know too much about the laws of etiquette when it came to dead people.

Draco leaned back on his heels, and for a moment, he looked all his two hundred and seventeen years.

"You really want to know about the War, don't you?"  
"Yes, sir."

"You do know, though, this isn't a happy story."

"I know." said Lena.

"Do you really?" said Draco, raising one eyebrow. "People died, you know. Friends and families torn apart, traitors at every bend, the entire Wizarding World in disarray. It was a scary time to live in, and I don't know why anyone who wouldn't have to live through it would want to hear about it. No one lived happily ever after. As a matter of fact, nearly no one lived."

Lena wished he would stop talking about tragedy in such a cavalier manner, but she couldn't let that get in the way of an Outstanding on such an important essay.

"Yes." she said with certainty. "Yes, I know."

"Well." chuckled Draco, running his hand through his hair. "Take a seat then."


	3. Perfect For Each Other

"How much do you know about the War?" asked Draco.

Lena ran through her mental filing cabinet, and recalled what she read on the subject.

"Well, Vol- You-Know-Who, was a Dark wizard who rose to power in the 1970s. In 198… 1, I think, he tried to kill Harry Potter, but the curse rebounded, and You-Know-Who died, and then came back to life-"

"No." interrupted the translucent teenager.

"What? My copy of History of Magic said-"

"Well, the book was wrong, then, wasn't it?"

He looked at her oddly, as though she was a familiar stranger.

"Always following the textbook, eh? I knew a witch just like you once. Pain in the arse, she was. But she helped save the goddamn world, and becomes a hero, while I'm stuck in a bathroom for eternity with my name nothing but a mention in a textbook."

"Are you referring to Hermione Granger?" she asked.

He shook his head, as though he was trying to rid himself of a negative thought.

"Right… so, your textbook is wrong. The Dark Lord never died. When he tried to kill Potter, the curse recoiled, and he was… displaced, I suppose, is the best way to put it. But he didn't die. He just couldn't do anything."

Lena struggled to comprehend the new information.

"But- how? I read that Harry survived, but no one knew why, but I didn't know You-Know-Who did too."

She was annoyed that everything her textbook said seemed to be a lie. If there was anything she hated more than bad grades, it was incorrect information.

"I don't suppose you know about Horcruxes, either, do you?"

Lena shook her head.

"Well, I don't know much about the curriculum now, but when I was in school, you weren't supposed to know about them. I doubt you're supposed to now either, but I'm going to tell you anyways. You probably shouldn't tell people I told you, though. Or actually, go ahead. I really don't give a damn. So, a Horcrux is an object in which you hide part of your soul."

"Oh dear, you're not telling her about those nasty things, are you?" called out Myrtle, who was floating near the ceiling.

"She asked me to tell her!" he shouted back.

"Don't you make excuses to me!" she yelled, and with a huff, she dove into a toilet, where she disappeared.

"There she goes again." muttered Draco. "Just you wait; she's probably listening to us, and will come back in a few minutes, when she changes her mind."

"I will not!" called a muffled voice from the toilet.

With a sigh, Draco continued his explanation.

"You-Know-Who was obsessed with immortality. So, he made seven Horcruxes, which is to say, he cut his soul into seven pieces. In doing so, he could not die."

Lena was horrified. The idea of mutilating your soul was despicable, but to do it seven times? That was truly evil. She had read of the hundreds of murders, but this was beyond what she would have thought possible.

"So that's why You-Know-Who didn't die?" she said in a small voice.

"Yep."

"Oh."

It seemed there was a lot more to this war than she thought. If her textbook had left that out, what else didn't she know?

"So, if You-Know-Who was 'displaced', how did he come back to his full powers?"

"He didn't come back to full strength until my fourth year. He did manage to cause quite a bit of chaos before that, though. All during my years at Hogwarts. Lucky me, eh?" said Draco, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"What year did you start Hogwarts, then?"

"1991."

Lena paused, doing a bit of mental math in her head.

"1991… that would put you in the same year as Harry Potter."

Draco gave her no indication that she was correct, instead watching her, which she took as an invitation to continue.

"So, if you were in his year, were you one of his friends?"

The moment those words slipped out of her mouth, she knew they were the wrong thing to say. Draco looked disgusted, then furious. Glaring at her, he grabbed for the tie around his neck, only to have his hand plunge right through his throat.

"Dammit!" he swore. He tried again and again to grab his tie, only to have his hand pass through his neck as though there was nothing there. Lena wanted to help him, but all she could do was stand on the sidelines. It felt like watching someone fall out of a wheelchair. After about a minute of attempting to pull his tie out in vain, he gave up, and gave a deep sigh. "You can't even see the colors of my house tie, can you?"

"Well, it is rather… transparent."

She looked at it closely, trying to see what house colors it was, but it was simply pale shades of black and blue. It could have been anything.

"Look, it's a Slytherin tie. I was in Slytherin house, and Potter was a Gryffindor. So, no, we weren't friends."

He leaned back against a sink, clearly frustrated with his handicap. Lena noticed he was actually floating an inch above the sink he was trying to lean on, but she didn't want to mention that to him.

She wasn't sure what she should say. It was obvious Draco didn't want to be bothered anymore. As much as she needed that interview, she wouldn't mess with someone in emotional distress. She backed away from him, ready to head out the door. Just as she turned around to put her hand on the doorknob, she heard an odd cooing sound, a consoling tone. Lena looked back to see Myrtle next to Draco, her arms around him, speaking softly to him with simple words of comfort.

"No worries, dear. It's okay. You'll be fine…"

Amazingly, this simple gesture had a perceptible effect on Draco. He immediately looked reassured, and spoke quietly to Myrtle.

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

At this, he smiled, looking as though he hadn't been upset in the first place. He looked away from Myrtle, and noticed Lena, still standing with her hand on the door.

"Well, where do you think you're going? You still have an interview!"

_I must add something here. I stole the title for this story from The Remus Lupin's Perfect For Each Other, and the transparent tie was based upon the numerous occasions where John Locke fell out of his wheelchair. (I Googled it. It happened more than once.)_

_-Accio Dilectio_


	4. Crybaby

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Obviously.

"So, where were we?" asked Draco, as he lazily floated a few inches above the ground.

"Your first year."

"Ahh…." Sighed Draco, and he looked rather nostalgic.

"First year… I was on top, that year. Best on the Quidditch pitch, swarms of friends, girls swooning at my feet…"

"Wait, how could you be best on the Quidditch pitch if first years aren't allowed their own brooms?"

"That rule's still in play, I see?" sneered Draco. "Well, I was amazing on a broom. Faster than the wind, nimble than-"

"No you weren't!" shrieked Myrtle, who had chosen to make her reappearance.

"What do you, mean, of course I was…" he said, obviously trying to give her a hint.

"No, you're lying again!" she squealed at Draco. She turned to address Lena. "He's lying, as usual. I swear, once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. Always trying to make himself look bigger, that's his way."

"Myrtle!" said Draco, looking shocked by her behavior. "Please, I'm trying to give an interview!"

"Don't you trying-to-give-an-interview me! I know you, better than anyone, and you better show me some respect!"

"Well, maybe you should do the same!"

"How dare you?"

"Do you even care about anyone but yourself?"

"You're making it very difficult to care, Myrtle!"

"Don't you go blaming this on me! You started this, you always start it, you never even show you care!"

"Well, I'm the one having to take care of you, the one who has to comfort you whenever you decide to get all moody over something someone told you 250 years ago!"

"Don't you go rewriting history! What do you think I did when you were a boy, crying about how miserable your life is, you pathetic little Death Eater!"

The look on Draco's face was enough to tell Lena that Myrtle had crossed the line. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but he seemed unable to. He took a step back, holding his left forearm tightly.

Myrtle's look faded from smug to guilty. She watched Draco for a second longer, and then disappeared to her toilet.

"Draco?" Lena asked, approaching him slowly, as if he were a wild animal. "Are you alright?"

"I- I, uh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

Lena could tell he obviously wasn't fine, but she wasn't about to push it.

"You fight like that a lot?" she asked, trying to turn the whole thing into something funny.

He gave a weak smile, and said, with a poor attempt at a chuckle.

"Yeah, we fight a lot… just, not, not like that."

Lena had no idea what it was that made Draco react this way. She was burning with curiosity, but she still had some tact.

"Perhaps you'd like to tell me about your first year." She suggested gently. "Those seem like happier times."

He nodded, focused on some point across the room.

"Yes. First year. Long time ago, but I swear, the way I remember it, it could have been yesterday."

Lena laughed, encouraging him to keep going.

"Right… so, in our first year, we had this teacher. He taught Defense Against The Dark Arts. You should be taking notes."

"Right." said Lena, and she quickly fetched a journal and a quill from her bag, writing down as much as she could.

"So, this teacher, his name was Quirrel. Jumpy fellow, always stuttering. Well, it turns out, he was insane."

"Then how did he get hired in the first place?"

"That's the obvious question, isn't it? Our Headmaster at the time, Albus Dumbledore, you've probably heard of him, he hired a madman, and yet everyone still considered him wise, never even considered the possibility that he could ever be wrong. Sheep, that's what people are. They follow whoever wants to be, and never complain, never question, not until it's too late.

"So, Quirrel, he was always wearing a turban. Big, purple thing. Strange as could be."

Lena wondered why Quirrel's turban could possibly be important, but she still scribbled down "Quirrel- purple turban, stutters".

"So, as you so kindly pointed out, Harry Potter was in my year. He always had two kids trailing after him. A witch named Hermione Granger, and a ginger named Ron Weasley."

"I know a Weasley!" Lena exclaimed.

"Do you now? Well, they breed like gnomes; I wouldn't be surprised if you do know one."

"He's my best friend's boyfriend. His name is Ronald, too. I think he said something once about being named after his great-great-grandfather, or something like that."

"Wouldn't be surprised…." he repeated. "I don't suppose there are any Malfoys in school?"

"No."

"Or any living Malfoys you know of anywhere?"

"None that I'm aware of."

He gave a long sigh.

"So, these two were always following him around. And Quirrel, he managed to make it through the whole year, until he decided to try to kill Potter. People were always trying to kill Potter, at least one attempt on his life a year."

"That's insane. How did he survive all of that?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Another member of the Potter Fan Club, I see. Typical. I don't know, he just did. He's a bleeding hero, okay?

"So, as I was saying, Potter wins, as usual. Defeats the Dark Lord when he's eleven years old. The Dark Lord was on the back of Quirrel's head."

None of this made any sense to Lena, but she continued to write it down diligently.

_Hi! Do you remember me? I know, it's been a while. I've been having horrid writer's block on this story, and have rewritten this chapter multiple times until I was mainly satisfied with it. Also, I've been writing a lot of stuff for other fandoms, though I haven't published any of them on . Please forgive me for my extended break, I'll try my hardest not to do that again.__- Accio Dilectio__P.S. I'm going to give you guys hints to what the two fandoms I have been writing for are. If I get enough excited responses from people who got the hints in the review box, they will more than likely be published.__Fandom No. 1: See you in another life, brotha.__Fandom No. 2: Don't blink. Blink and you're dead. Don't turn your back. Don't look away. And don't blink. Good luck._


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